


Two Avengers off the clock

by curiouslyfic



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-15
Updated: 2012-05-15
Packaged: 2017-11-05 10:16:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/405300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiouslyfic/pseuds/curiouslyfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint's not entirely sure Bruce knows it's a date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Avengers off the clock

**Author's Note:**

> Shadowclub@LJ asked for Bruce/Clint kissing fic, preferably at a fancy restaurant. This is what happened. Beta by freakingcrups@LJ.

Bruce has been quiet all night, not making eye contact or speaking much louder than a whisper, shifting nervously in his seat. Clint’s sure it’s not the big guy, _the other guy_ , because he knows how Bruce gets when it is, so Clint gives them decent odds of getting out of here without breaking Stark’s net worth in fancy cutlery or whatever. 

It’s a Wednesday. Those don’t go wrong as often. 

Then again, they _are_ two Avengers off the clock. That doesn’t usually go right. This place is expensive — last time Clint asks Cap for suggestions because Cap’s obviously asked Pepper or worse, Tony — and Clint’s not sure even Bruce understood the menu. So that’s just asking for trouble…and a collateral damage bill that’s going to set Coulson off again. 

Bruce looks good by candlelight, though, so it’s worth the trade-off. Clint’s got all that experience dealing with Coulson; might as well put it to good use. 

Clint asks how it’s going in the lab, mostly because Bruce hasn’t said anything in a while and it looks like he’s done poking at whatever the hell it is he ordered. Clint’s not ready for the bill yet, not ready to let the night end already. 

Bruce gets more animated as he talks about his work and Clint likes watching him, even if he doesn’t understand most of what Bruce is saying, and because Natasha will literally kick his ass if he blows this one, too, Clint makes encouraging noises and nods when Bruce starts really getting into it. 

Clint’s not entirely sure Bruce knows it’s a date. Clint asked and Clint’s paying and Clint’s been opening doors and stuff all night, Clint pulled Bruce’s chair out for him and everything, Clint’s pretty sure everyone else at S.H.I.E.L.D. and, like, the restaurant knows what’s going on but Bruce…well, Clint’s not as sure. 

Then Bruce has an incident with his water glass. Clint’s watching him and Clint’s vision is unreal but Clint doesn’t see what happens, how exactly Bruce douses himself, probably because Clint’s distracted trying to read Bruce’s eye contact avoidance. 

Right at this moment, he’s betting it would be news to Bruce that Clint’s a sure thing. 

To test the theory, and because he wants to, Clint reaches out to cover Bruce’s hand with his own. Bruce stops patting his napkin on the soaked tablecloth and looks up, gets closer to actual eye contact than he’s managed all night. 

“Hey,” Clint says, quiet enough compared to his usual volume but still probably too loud for this place. “It’s okay. It’ll dry.” Clint fights the urge to suggest Bruce needs to get out of his wet clothes, asap. A sketchy expense report’s one thing, but there’s no way even Clint can talk Coulson into approving a sketchy expense report if public nudity’s involved. 

Bruce flashes him a hesitant smile, an honest flicker at first that fades and returns uncertainly. “Evaporation,” Bruce agrees. 

It might be the first science-related thing Bruce has ever said that Clint’s understood. For this kind of progress, Natasha might even crack that lifted eyebrow that means she’s smiling. Clint can’t help but grin. 

He’s holding Bruce’s hand and understanding the science and Bruce is smiling back, and maybe none of that should be important but it is. Bruce Banner’s so self-composed, he’s a challenge and Clint can’t resist a challenge. 

Never could. The fact that fucking this one up probably means dealing with the Big Guy one-on-one just makes this one about as dangerous as his others. Pranking Stark, annoying Coulson, invading the helicarrier, taking on the Swordsman, that’s all probably not much different than holding the Big Guy’s hand. Everyone seems to think Bruce’s _other guy_ is dangerous — S.H.I.E.L.D. has gone out of their way to contain him and they aren’t even pretending otherwise — but as far as Clint’s concerned, even at his most feral, the Big Guy’s an Avenger. 

That means something. At least, it does to Clint. 

Bruce has his moments, sure; the guy’s torn up more of the city than Stark owns and he’s got a body count, but so does Clint. And frankly, Clint hasn’t always been sorry about it later. 

“Um,” Bruce says, quietly insistent, dragging Clint out of his own head. “People are staring.” 

Right. Clint’s still holding his hand. Probably staring like a dope, too, because Natasha’s been pretty clear — well, clear for Natasha — that Clint’s mooning is getting obvious and pathetic, Clint needs to man up and do something about it or be mocked forever. 

“So let ‘em.” Clint shrugs with a shoulder, can’t make himself let go of Bruce’s hand. Bruce is finally actually making eye contact and there’s none of that _other guy_ in his expression, just that quiet Bruce uncertainty, and whatever, it’s not like people staring at either of them is new. 

Bruce’s eyebrows knit. Clint thinks it looks adorable and wants to kick himself. He may ask Natasha to kick his ass anyway; she might have a point about the mooning. “I don’t like when people stare.” 

Clint narrows his eyes, still can’t see Bruce hulking out over this. And even if he does, Clint has a sedative arrow. They’ll be fine. “Don’t like or _don’t like_?” he prompts. 

Bruce kills the eye contact to shuffle uncertainly again. “They aren’t usually staring for anything good.” 

Clint wants to ask if Bruce has seen himself in a mirror lately. He refuses to believe he’s the only person who’s ever wanted to protect Bruce Banner from the world, or the only person who’s ever appreciated both Bruce the hot smart guy _and_ Bruce’s bigger, greener side. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Clint says, as casually as he can. “Pretty sure they’re staring at me.” 

Bruce frowns in the general direction of his cutlery. Clint realizes he’s been stroking Bruce’s hand with his thumb, resolves to stop when he’s asked and not a moment sooner. 

“That might be worse, actually,” Bruce tells his plate. 

Clint blinks, feels like he’s just shot his whole quiver in one pull and watched all his arrows hit home. Clint might not be a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist or whatever but he knows victory when he hears it muttering to its plate. 

“Hey, I’m here with _you_ ,” he says, stops rubbing Bruce’s hand to squeeze it gently until Bruce looks back up at him again. The things he sees in Bruce’s face this time have Clint bumping up the schedule significantly; he thinks vaguely that Coulson will be glad to hear Clint’s working on his efficiency. “Look, I’m going to do a thing now and I’m going to go slow when I do, and if you need to get out of here for any reason, it’s cool. You can, uh, take it up with me later if you want.” 

He doesn’t want to flat out say he’s got his sedative arrow and just mentioning the big guy is a sure-fire way to set Bruce on edge, but Bruce is a smart guy. Clint’s pretty sure Bruce understands. 

Bruce just stares at him and licks his lips, which is all the okay Clint needs, and Clint leans in slowly, shifts his chair a little to close the gap between them so he stands less chance of taking out their fancy table if he gets distracted, and when he’s a half-breath away from contact, he sees Bruce’s eyes widen in what can only be surprise. 

Good surprise, Clint thinks, but he’s got his mouth on Bruce’s before he can be sure, so he supposes he’ll find out soon enough. 

Kissing Bruce is less fun than Clint expects until Bruce starts kissing back, but his mouth’s all soft and sweet and innocent at first, not quite his absent-minded scientist slack but not far off, either, and there’s none of the startled sputtering Clint’s jerked off imagining. Still, it’s him kissing _Bruce_ , so it’s still pretty hot, and that’s before Bruce starts kissing back. 

Once Bruce does, though, Clint feels like the big guy’s thrown him across a padded room, stomach swooping and blood running hot, adrenalin flaring in the best way and nothing else in the world worth noticing but what he’s doing. 

Bruce takes a moment to really get comfortable in it, which is pretty much bullseye as far as Clint’s expecting: he knows Bruce has had a girlfriend since his Gamma incident and he’s sure no one who looks like Bruce could have gone this far in life without being kissed but he knows, too, that it probably hasn’t happened lately. So Clint takes the lead for a while, because someone has to make sure they get some tongue action going, but when he traces the seam of Bruce’s lips with the tip of his tongue, it’s not long at all before Bruce’s mouth opens to suck Clint’s tongue. 

Clint tries to pull back a little so they can both breathe and Bruce growls a protest, hooks one hand around the back of Clint’s head to hold him still, and it’s not big guy rough but it’s not quite Bruce Banner gentle, either, and Clint fucking loves it. 

Loves, too, the sounds Bruce makes when Clint gets around to sucking on his lower lip, tugging it between his teeth and working it over deliberately. 

Clint doesn’t so much pull away as he sort of falls back into his seat, dazed, and he wants to say he’s checking Bruce’s face for some sign of the _other guy_ but that’s total BS. He should be and he knows it, but he can’t get past what he’s done to Bruce’s _mouth_. 

Natasha’s going to kill him; at the very least, she’s probably going to kick his ass all week. Clint might have just made the mooning _worse_. 

Bruce gets his composure back first, but that’s not really surprising. Bruce has way more practice getting his shit together. At this point, it’s basically Bruce’s superpower, self-control and knowing when to lose it. 

“Is that offer to get out of here still available?” Bruce asks. 

Clint nods, can’t trust himself not to wreck this with his smart mouth. He’s usually pretty good at keeping that under control around Bruce lately but he’s been thrown for a loop and he knows it. He is _not_ risking fucking this up now, and not just because there’s that looming threat of Natasha if he does. 

Still. Leaving is optional. More kissing Bruce is not. 

Bruce smiles, steadier than he has all night. “Good,” he says, flushed and bright-eyed. “Because I think I have something I’d like to take up with you later.” 

And from there, Clint can’t get the bill fast enough. 

~f~


End file.
